


Etched

by justanexercise



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Chapter 3 is SMUT, F/F, Mentions of Pedophilia, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Restraints, Sexual Content, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-19 11:39:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4744943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanexercise/pseuds/justanexercise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The name of your soulmate is marked on your skin.<br/>Shaw only felt fear once in her life, when she had lost her soulmate at the age of 10.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Shaw scratches at the name _Samantha_ marked on her inner bicep. Two Sam’s. It’d been too small to read when she’d been born. Her soulmate is older than her, by how much, well she wouldn’t know until they meet.

Her father finds it charming that he’ll have two daughters named Sam and often joked about getting her and her soulmate confused, when she finds her of course.

-

At the end of soccer practice when she’s ten years old, Shaw discovers her missing soul mark when she takes a shower. She’d stared at the patch of skin for hours, the water running cold. For a fleeting moment, she feels her heart twist, she suspects it’s fear. Fear that her soulmate died, left her before she even meets her.

She’d suspected she’d been different, ever since her father passed and she didn’t cry like everyone expects her to.

Shaw isn’t even worthy of having a soulmate.

She rubs at her bicep until the skin goes raw, blood flowing down the drain. Shaw steps shakily out of the shower and stares at her reflection through the mirror. Her eyes don’t deceive her, she is markless. She stares at her skin, shivering as the cold air licks across her wet skin.

Her mother’s mark is a faded grey.

Her soulmate isn’t dead then. She just…ceased to exist.

Shaw grits her teeth.

Had she even had a soulmate?

She shakes her head and towel dries her cold body, the water’s practically evaporated as it is. Reaching her thigh, Shaw’s heart takes another tug.

_Root_

Another mark on her inner thigh. Shaw scratches at it, nothing the blood welling underneath the new writing. The writing is similar to Samantha.

Shaw smiles and shakes her head.

Her soulmate has a stupid name but at least they won’t both be Sam anymore.

-

Shaw’s suspected the crazy chick she shoots in the shoulder is the same Root scrawled onto her skin. She pushes it to the back of her mind but it comes back to the surface while she digs out a bullet in Root’s chest.

Root has a collection of scars across her body, some from her old life as a killer for hire and most from her duties as an Analogue interface. But one stands out, a clean patch of shiny skin on her ribs. Barely noticeable to the untrained eye.

Shaw narrows her gaze and tapes the remaining gauze onto Root’s wound.

If Root notices Shaw’s revelation, she doesn’t give voice to it, instead she whips her shirt back on and hops off the table.

“Thanks,” Root mutters, leaning into Shaw’s personal space. “You still have the best hands doctor.”

Shaw rolls her eyes. “Keep them dry.”

“Bye Shaw.”

Shaw still stands in the same spot after Root’s left. Her hands curl into fists.

Root burned her off.

-

After the team rescues her from Samaritan, Shaw finally has a chance to speak with Root, alone. Courtesy of John and Harold of course. Root’s been reluctant to stay with Shaw unless there’s a third wheel with flimsy excuses and a penchant for running away.

“Hey,” Shaw greets, stepping into the library of their newest home base.

Root freezes, turning around with a well-practiced leer. “Hey Shaw.” She tilts her head to the side, as if listening to the machine. Which Shaw knows to be false, she specifically threatened the machine five minutes ago to not interrupt them, at the cost of Shaw melting a few power lines if the machine did.

“Root.”

“Sorry sweetie, gotta go.”

Shaw grabs her arm, spinning her around and pushing her against the heavy bookcase. “We both know the machine isn’t talking right now.”

Root gives her the patronizing look. “Which one of us has a direct line to the machine?”

“Root.”

“Yes Sameen?”

Shaw’s lips thin to a line. “Thank you.”

Root tilts her head to the side, confused. “For?”

“You never gave up.”

Root’s gaze lowers, ashamed. “I did.”

Shaw shakes her head. “You might’ve stopped looking, but you never gave up. You knew I was alive, the whole time.”

Root keeps silent.

“How?” Shaw asks.

Root shifts, pushing off slightly from the bookcase and Shaw lets her. “I should –“

“How did you know I wasn’t dead?” Shaw demands, her hands coming up to push Root back, right on her ribs, where Shaw’s name should be marked  on Root’s pale skin.

Root inhales sharply, gripping Shaw’s wrist, her eyes wide. “I …”

Shaw stares, her other hand sliding under Root’s shirt, finger tracing the smooth scarred skin. “You know what we are.”

Opening and closing her mouth, struggling to find words, Root finally nods yes.

“You were thirteen,” Shaw says, already calculated the exact timeline when Samantha was erased and Root came to be. “What’d you use? Fire? Acid? Feels like acid. It’s well done.” Shaw’s nail pricks at the scar. “Couldn’t have done it better myself.” Shaw notes Root’s heavy breaths as her nail raises welts on the spot. “So how could you have known I wasn’t dead, when you already burned me off?”

Root’s eyes glisten bright, she squeezes her eyes shut and gently knocks her forehead against Shaw’s. “You came back.”

Shaw nods, bouncing Root’s head with her own.

“No,” Root says, “I mean yes you came back but…” Root shakes her head and straightens up. She shrugs off her jacket and unbuttons her shirt.

Shaw’s jaw slacks. “Uhhh…” She can’t help her eyes from looking at Root’s body being unwrapped in front of her.

Root offers up her inner bicep for Shaw.

She blinks.

“You came back,” Root reiterates.

Shaw takes Root’s arm and traces her name marked on Root’s skin. She huffs. It’s where Samantha used to be on her own body. “When?”

“After the stock exchange,” Root says softly.

“You didn’t tell anyone.”

Root shakes her head. “No.”

“Why not?”

Root raises an eyebrow. “And have Harry and John know we’re…” she bites her lip. “Are we?”

Rolling her eyes, Shaw takes Root’s hand and puts it on her belt buckle. She ignores Root’s questioning look and pulls down her pants.

“Sameen?”

“We are,” Shaw says, pointing to Root’s name on her thigh.

Root’s head cocks to the side, a smile gracing her face. “I was half expecting it to be Sam.”

“It was,” Shaw says, pulling her pants back up despite Root’s pout. “Well, it was Samantha.”

“What next?”

“Now,” Shaw says, buttoning Root’s shirt back up. “You buy me a steak and a beer.”

“Is this a date?” Root licks her lips, back to her perky self.

Shaw shakes her head but otherwise doesn’t respond, just smiles at Root and pulls her out of the library.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seems like people like this one, so here's Root's side of things.

 

Samantha Groves receives her soulmark at the age of three. The writing is too small to make out, too bunched up, it will stretch out as she grows in her own body. But she can at least tell that her soulmate’s name starts with an S.

Her mother is relieved Samantha has a soulmate, someone who will love and care for her unconditionally. At least, that’s what it’s supposed to be like, she wouldn’t know, she never did have a soulmate.

-

When Samantha’s body finally stretches out enough for her to read her soulmate’s name, she stares and stares.

It’s Samantha.

Her soulmate’s name is Samantha.

Hanna jokes that maybe she’s her own soulmate, Sam hits her with a pillow and laughs.

But she wonders, maybe she doesn’t deserve a soulmate, maybe she is her own soulmate.

Is it better than Hanna who still doesn’t have a mark?

-

One day, the name Samantha disappears on her stomach to be replaced by Sameen.

She smiles.

Her soulmate is real.

And apparently someone has the foresight to change their name so they’re not both Samantha.

She heads to the section on of the library about names and reads up on everything she can about Sameen.

It’s of Persian or Arabic origins.

Along with the stack of computer coding books, she piles on books to learn Arabic and Farsi.

-

A week after Hanna’s disappearance, Root stops following Trent Russell.

Her friend is dead.

She understands why Hanna didn’t have a soulmark. They’d joked about Hanna becoming a cougar one day with every year that passes when Hanna still doesn’t receive her mark.

It’s not that Hanna’s soulmate wasn’t born yet, it’s that Hanna didn’t live long enough to have one.

Root scratches Sameen’s name on her stomach until it’s bloody and illegible.

After it’s healed and the scabs peel off Sameen is still as dark as ever.

Root covers it with a bandage anyways.

-

After Trent Russell dies, Root visits a dermatologist in San Antonio.

After a minute of being with him, he’s all but confirmed her suspicions. He’s a very bad man.

He wants to put her under, to spare her the pain he says. Root refuses any type of anesthesia.

As he pores the acid over her skin, she bites her lip until it bleeds. Her eyes never leave the bubbling of her skin, watching Sameen sear itself off.

She catches the way he looks at her in her flimsy paper gown.

Root’s barely a teenager then.

Just the way he likes them.

A week after her surgery, Dr. Matheson gets killed by a father of one of his patients. The authorities uncover a treasure trove of child pornography on his computer and many were taken of his unconscious patients.

The father says that son of a bitch kept a picture of his daughter’s molestation in a fishing magazine at the waiting room.

Root folds the newspaper and smiles.

She touches the marred skin on her stomach, healing, shiny and completely clear.

Only three people have seen Sameen on her skin. Two of them are dead.

-

Her mother finally passes.

It’s for the best. She never did have the best of health.

Root doesn’t hire a priest, the only people in attendance is her and the funeral workers who lower the casket into the ground.

Root leaves Bishop right after the final shovel of dirt is dumped onto the grave.

Everyone who’s seen Sameen on her skin is dead.

-

It’s amazing how a complete stranger can have so much faith when they see their own name tattooed on her skin and hers on theirs.

She’s an amazing forger now, she doesn’t do things in halves. She learns the writing style of her targets soulmate too as well as the target’s to perfectly replicate their signature.

Would they still wholeheartedly trust and love their real soulmate?

Root shrugs.

If they still do, then they’re fools.

-

Root’s heart skips a beat at Catalyst Indigo’s real name.

Sameen Shaw.

Her frown morphs into a smile the further she reads.

Shaw’s record is certainly impressive.

Root sneaks into the local gun shop, helping herself to a box of ammo. She stalls at the glass case of self-defense weapons.

She steals a taser too.

-

Even with Shaw’s affinity for wearing tank tops and shorts, Root still hasn’t seen her soulmark.

Would it be Samantha? Or would it be Root?

Shaw’s name did change on her.

The nagging question though, is if Shaw would still have her name?

Not after Root burned her off.

Root shakes her head. It’s pointless to dwell on soulmates.

Shaw doesn’t seem like the soulmate type.

Neither is she.

-

It’s been three days since Shaw’s disappearance at the Stock Exchange.

Reese is outside gathering intel for their next stop.

Root stays in the bathroom, glaring at the mirror. She touches her scar on her stomach.

Sameen should be there.

She would know once and for all if Sameen is alive or dead.

But she doesn’t.

Root regrets searing off her name.

Or perhaps this is for the best.

Schrodinger’s Cat.

As long as she doesn’t know, then she will keep going.

-

Everyone’s given up on Shaw.

Root will not.

She can’t.

Root changes out of her bloody clothing, donning on a new identity from the Machine. The Machine wants her to stop, giving her a new mission. Root ignores Her.

She slips out of her blouse and she freezes.

Root lifts up her arms, tracing her inner bicep.

She runs over to the mirror, staring.

It’s real.

Root scratches at her arm. The mark doesn’t rub off.

A slow smile spread across her face and she chokes back a sob.

Shaw’s alive.  

-

Root daintily nibbles on a French fry while Shaw stabs at the steak in front of her.

“You need to eat,” Shaw says, pushing her plate.

“I am eating,” Root says, shoving the fry into her mouth.

“This is Kobe beef, you’re not wasting it.”

“Well, you can always –“

“Eat the steak.”

Root concedes, using her knife and fork like a regular person rather than spearing it. She cuts off half her steak and plops it on Shaw’s empty plate. Shaw shrugs and devours it.

“Who’s idea was it to name you Sameen?”

“What?”

“Mother? Father? You?”

Shaw’s forehead crinkles. “My father. Why?”

Root hums, chewing thoughtfully. “Why didn’t he choose a separate name? Were you attached to Sam?”

“What are you talking about?”

Root blinks. “You know you were named Samantha right?”

Shaw rolls her eyes, sipping at her water. “You wanna be name twins now?”

“Sameen. You were called Samantha.”

“No I wasn’t.”

“Yes you were.”

Root pulls out her cellphone and easily hacks into the hospital Shaw was born at. Digital copies are a godsend. She pushes her phone at Shaw triumphantly.

Shaw’s jaw clenches. “Good thing you’re Root now then.”

“You changed your name first.”

“My father did.”

“You wouldn’t have changed it?”

“No.”

“Then we’d both be Samantha.”

Shaw shrugs. “You could’ve changed it.”

“I had it first.”

“Would’ve made you change it.”

Root quirks an eyebrow. “Sure you would Sam.”

“Whatever.” Shaw fiddles with her knife. “Still better than your mark, is that really how you write or did you forget how to write so it’s a font?”

“I don’t know Sameen,” Root says, sliding her foot up Shaw’s calf. “I didn’t really get a good look at it. Maybe you should show me again.”

Shaw doesn’t stop her even when Root’s foot connects with her thigh, right where Root’s name is.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now the question is, should there be a smutty 3rd chapter?


	3. Chapter 3

 

Perhaps letting Root keep the shackled cuff set from the asylum had not been the best of ideas, but Root put on the pout and Shaw, though rolling her eyes, immediately caved.

Now, Shaw’s restrained on the bed, arms above her head while Root’s doing wonderful things between her legs.

Such wonderful things.

If only Root would fucking stop biting and licking her thighs and get to the good part.

Shaw grunts, nudging Root’s hip with her legs as much as the cuffs would let her. Root ignores her, pressing down on her legs and continuing to drive Shaw wild with her teeth and tongue.

They’re going to need to change the bedsheets or sleep on the couch; with Shaw practically drenching the entire bed with her sweat and fluid flowing between her legs.

And Root, the damn tease, hasn’t even given her one single orgasm yet.

“Root,” Shaw hisses. “Fucking stop teasing.”

“You told me to drive you wild Sameen,” Root says, smacking her lips and inching her fingers closer between Shaw’s legs.

She smacks her on the thigh instead; right where Root’s name is, and the source of Root’s concentration for the past hour. Shaw’s whole body jerks against the ankle and wrist restraints, their heavy wooden bed creaking against her effort. She groans in frustration, expelling air through her nose like a bull.

“Root,” she warns.

“Patience sweetie.” Root trails her finger across her own name, tapping her own name in Morse code and admiring the bruises and hickeys surrounding it.

“I’ve been beyond patient, it’s been hours Root.”

Root tilts her head to the side, smiling. “Actually it’s been an hour and 42 minutes and 38 seconds.”

Shaw rolls her eyes. “Tell your other half She’s being a creepy pervert.”

Humming, Root licks a path up Shaw’s stomach, between her breasts and up her neck. She scratches down Shaw’s forearms.

Shaw arches her neck, latching her teeth onto Root’s mark and sucking, just like Root’s been doing to her.

Root groans, holding Shaw’s neck and stroking her hair. Her hips grind slowly across Shaw’s stomach, leaving a wet patch.

“That’s enough,” Root says, shoving Shaw’s forehead down onto the pillow.

Shaw admires her handiwork, the redness on Root’s bicep that will surely turn into a nice hickey.

Carding her fingers though Shaw’s pubic hair, Root lazily strokes between her legs, watching as Shaw’s breathing changes with every flick. Shaw keeps her eyes open, concentrating on Root’s smug grin and blinking to keep them from glazing over with pleasure.

“Root,” Shaw warns, twisting her hips as much as she can with the restraints on her ankles.

“What’s the magic word?”

“Fuck me.”

Root pouts, pulling her hand away from Shaw despite her groan and tapping those wet fingertips against her lips to mock think. She shrugs and hops off the bed.

“Seriously?” Shaw hisses, tugging against the cuffs. “Root, come on.”

Ignoring Shaw, Root digs through the nightstand and steps into the harness and strap-on. She turns to Shaw, smiling as Shaw stares between her legs with a gleam in her eyes.

“Sweetie, my eyes are up here.”

Shaw smirks, taking her sweet time to look into Root’s adoring gaze.

“Fuck me,” Shaw says.

Squeezing a generous amount of lube onto the strap-on, Root jerks against it, moaning lowly at the toy rubbing against her clit. She spread Shaw’s legs, hand landing on Shaw’s mark and rubbing incessantly across it as Shaw jerks against the cuffs.

“Ready?” Root asks, scooting up and opening Shaw with just a finger.

Though Root already knows, with how much Shaw clenches around her finger, Shaw nods and shifts her hips up. Root keeps up her fingering, adding a second one. She closes her eyes, concentrating on feeling Shaw around her and the flutter of muscles. They grow steady, desperate and Root grins.

It’s time.

Root balances her hands on Shaw’s thighs, slowly entering Shaw with the strap-on, watching as Shaw smiles, thinking that Root’s finally going to fuck her.

Root starts slow. Too slow. Counting to five in her head with every stroke.

“Root.”

Root keeps up the mental counts.

“Root.” Shaw wiggles her hips.

Root keeps up the pace until Shaw growls, turning into a squeak when Root slams into her. She catalogues that sound in her mind, filed away for some lonely nights when Shaw’s sure to be gone on a mission or when Root will be called away.

“What’s that sweetie?” Root says, pulling out slowly.

“Fuck…you,” Shaw hisses.

“Maybe later.” Root slams back in and takes her time pulling out.

Shaw relaxes on the bed, resigned to Root’s infuriating game. Driving into her hard and fast, but retracting slow as fuck. Her hands curl into fists on the headboard, desperate to flip their position and fuck herself hard and fast.

It goes on for far too long.

“Root,” Shaw says, voice unusually high. She licks her lips, tilting her head up to stare at Root. “Please.”

She drops her head to avoid the smug grin Root’s sure to sport.

“All you had to do was ask,” Root says, scratching down Shaw’s stomach.

Loosening the leg cuffs, Root pushes the back of Shaw’s knees until they reach the bed, using them as leverage. She drives into Shaw, fucking her as deep and fast as Shaw needs her to be. Definitely worth it when Shaw chokes back a gasp, her breathing in time with Root’s thrusts.

Root bites her lip, unable to tear her eyes away from Shaw’s face full of pleasure. She knows those micro-expressions, knows exactly what Shaw needs.

She rubs at Shaw’s clit, the other hand scratching her soulmark.

Shaw arches her hips, driving herself deeper into Root, the only words she could say are _fuck_ and _Root_.

Root speeds up, seeing the tell-tale twitch in Shaw’s face and coos as Shaw’s body seizes up. She doesn’t stop, fingers rubbing even faster, hips slamming into Shaw even harder.

Shaw’s eyes fly open, her first orgasm turning into another, into another until her legs quake and drop to the side.

“Root,” Shaw breathes out, shifting back as much as she can.

“One more please,” Root says, pushing Shaw’s jaw to the side and biting her neck. “Can you do that for me Sameen? One more.”

Shaw surrenders, letting Root fuck her into another possibly mind-blowing orgasm.

She doesn’t disappoint.

As Shaw’s muscles stop contracting on Root’s strap-on, Root finally pulls out completely and Shaw twitches in the aftershocks.

“Thanks sweetie,” Root says, dropping a kiss to Shaw’s cheek.

Shaw grunts, not able to form any coherent thoughts.

Gently letting Shaw out of her restraints, Root rubs at the red wrists, kissing them both and massaging what’s sure to be sore muscles in Shaw’s arms. She tugs the blanket up, covering them both as she snuggles into Shaw’s neck who’s definitely too tired to protest, not that she would.

“You know,” Root says, tracing the shell of Shaw’s ear with her tongue. “I never did get to eat you out.”

Shaw’s eyes snap open and she uses the last reserve of her strength to wrap her limbs around Root.

“No,” Shaw hisses.

“But –“

“No.”

Root pouts. “But Sameen, I like eating you out.”

“No.”

Huffing out an exaggerated sigh, Root settles in. “Fine, but can I eat you out tomorrow?”

Shaw rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Tomorrow as in 24 hours after, not tomorrow as in the morning.”

“Sure Sam.”

“Root, I mean it.”

“Mmhmm.”

“I’m going to wake up with your head between my legs aren’t I?”

“Are you complaining?”

Shaw wisely, remains silent.

And Root grins.

Shaw is definitely waking up to an orgasm tomorrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all are thirsty. Geez. (Dont' change POI fandom, but you guys should write smut too y'know)


End file.
